Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,82

out, Reyna. I promise you.” Lorcan clasped her hands in his, tugging her toward him. She leaned into his strength, filling her head with the scent of him. An ache formed around her heart, spreading down into her core where a spark lit that had been dormant for far too long. All her life, Reyna had never thought she would need anything. Especially not anyone else.

But she needed him.

Nollaig cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to make a plan. Fast. The wood king is killing innocents. We need to put a stop to it.”

Reyna drew back and glanced at the empty mists behind them. “That’s why I came. I thought you would have an army with you. Weren’t you going to the coastal lords for help?”

Lorcan’s jaw clenched. “We did, but it was not the kind of help I anticipated. Instead of agreeing to march to Findius to help with the siege, the lords have offered a home here for the low fae of Findius.”

“You mean they want you to flee Findius?” Reyna asked.

Nollaig nodded, her cloak rustling. “They have food here. Fish from the seas. It’s not much, but it’s better than what we have in Findius.”

“But how does that help? The wood king would have realized you abandoned Findius. Sooner rather than later.” Reyna’s frown deepened. “Didn’t the coastal lords know this? He would have eventually marched on their gates.”

“I don’t think the wood king cares about the shadow lands beyond Findius,” Nollaig said quietly. “All he wanted was that throne.”

“If that’s the case, then why is he killing all the—” Reyna’s eyes widened as realization crashed over her. “That’s why they’re killing every shadow fae they can find. Because you’re still alive. Ulaid Molt doesn’t have the throne.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Lorcan shook his head, wincing. “As soon as he sat his murderous arse on that throne, he would have realized the male he killed was not the High King of the Shadow Court. Because the throne’s magic would not have transferred to him. He’s killing the shadow fae because he’s trying to find me. He’ll never have the power until I’m dead.”

“But then what do we do?” Reyna whispered. “If the three of us return to Findius by ourselves, he’ll just kill you. For real, this time. And Lorcan—” Her voice cracked. “I can’t watch you be killed again. I just can’t.”

He tucked a finger beneath her chin. “Ulaid Molt will not kill me. I don’t plan on getting close enough to him for him to try. At least not until the city is ours once again.”

“And how do you plan to do that, Your Highness?” Nollaig asked dryly. “Conjure an army out of thin air?”

He turned to her. “The lords of Caraid refused to march when they thought we were under siege. Things have changed now. Ulaid Molt is in the city. He might not have planned on marching south before, but he will once he realizes I’m not there. The only way for them to save themselves is to join the fight.”

“I’m not so sure they’ll agree with that.”

“We’ll make them,” he said fiercely. “I am their king.”

28

Reyna

Caraid squatted on the western coast of the Shadow Court. Two spiralling towers reached toward the sky, connected by a swinging bridge that melted into the mists. Built of black stone, just like Findius, the small town huddled like a ghost beneath the darkness of the realm.

Lorcan led them through the gates and up a twisting, rocky path to the castle. Fire flickered from arched windows that dotted the curving walls, and smoke curled up through slits near the top. Waves crashed against a sandy shore, though scarcely any fae were out enjoying the sea. Instead, they were all huddled up inside, just like the citizens of Findius.

It wasn’t any better here than it was there, Reyna couldn’t help but think. They might have fish, but they did not have hope. They needed more than this to survive.

They were ushered inside at once, and then led to a Great Hall that showed the first real signs of life Reyna had seen since entering Caraid. Several long tables were packed inside, and a hearth blazed in the far corner. Lords and ladies sat at a head table nearest the fire while the other tables held warriors and other courtiers. Minor lords, druids, and merchants. This place looked more like court than Findius ever had.

“Ah.” A male stood from the head of the table, drenched in black.